|the naive rebel|
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xxii| Let me pop your bubble
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word count- 1793

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INAAYAT
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My eyes widen as I look at the scene unfolding before me.

The person removes the top layer slowly, peeling it off from the gooey body as her breathing seems rugged, she looks calm, it is the first time I am watching it. As soon as the top layer comes out she slowly pulls the bottom one too, and that is when I notice the brown liquid oozing out.

I see a smile beaming on my friends' face and I look at them. The girl on the screen looks content as the plate gets filled with chocolate sauce and decorates itself around the freshly prepared brownie.

"Why the hell are you all watching the brownie recipe?" I question looking at Mishti and Sameer who drool looking at the brownie on the screen.

"We are going to cook," Mishti announces as she stands banging the table in our cafeteria.

"Where?" Nikhil questions looking at Sameer's shiny eyes.

"My house," Mishti announces and we look at her completely confused.

"Oh wait, I didn't tell you all?" She slowly questions herself.

While she does so, my gaze falls on Ishaan who is sitting right opposite me looking as if he isn't the same person who had tied me in the room and had stolen the paper with me.

Shaan and Ishaan were too different from each other and it must have taken a lot from him to mould himself in Shaan's character.

No swearing, controlling that raged face, anger, everything.

Nikhil and Garima meanwhile question Mishti about her statement when Mishti suddenly turns towards us.

"So, today is Wednesday."

Yesterday, the college had reopened and as predicted the test was scheduled and taken. I had left no stones unturned to mug up the entire question set's answers.

"We know that." Nikhil dead-pans.

"This weekend we are going to Mumbai," Mishti announces and my eyes turn minuscule, glaring at her.

"What the hell?" I voice out not realising how loud I sound.

"Uh- I mean..why?" I reframe my sentence more politely.

"Because this Saturday is my birthday. My Grandmother, wants me to celebrate my birthday there, and she has invited you all as well."

Don't these students study?

What is this behaviour?

Trip. A week of college and then again a trip.

At least, study sometimes, too.

"Aye, don't worry. You aren't going to miss college. We'll leave on Friday evening after college is done, then we'll be back on Sunday evening and attend Monday's lectures. Just this week, please?"

"I am in," Nikhil announces.

"Expected." Sameer taunts, laughing over Nikhil's enthusiasm.

"I am in, too." Sameer states.

"I'll come! Can't miss Grandma's food." Garima adds as she praises her paternal grandmother's food.

"Is she that great of a chef?" Sameer voices.

"Good? Bro, she makes amazing food! She is a teacher but cooking is her passion." Garima explains.

"I'll come." I hear a low whisper yet I know who it belongs to. Mishti nods at Ishaan, thanking him.

Suddenly, all pair of eyes are on me.

Okay.

Is it safe to go to Mumbai?

What if my cover is exposed?

I can't be discovered, I have to find the murderer. I need to know who killed those students.

But, if Ishaan agreed, there must be a reason. Dad told me to follow his lead. He is experienced, there must be some reason if he agreed.

"Yes. I am in." I announce and they all cheer.

"We have to leave the day after tomorrow, which means we have only two days to complete the assignments due on Monday. Let's start our work, people." Nikhil smartly advises.

"True, we shouldn't waste our time. Lectures are over, let us head to our rooms and finish the bundles of files that are calling us." Garima affirms.

"Perfect!"

With this, all of them leave except Mishti, Ishaan and I who stay back at the table. I am still drinking my coffee, while Mishti gets up to leave, "Wait, is he going to be there too?" I dart my question at Mishti before she leaves.

"I guess?" She smiles at me but I realise that it isn't a full smile. She isn't happy and that makes me sad, too.

I blink my eyes in assurance as she leaves the cafeteria telling me to reach the room directly while she heads to the library to pick some course books.

Ishaan stands up looking at me pointedly, "Today. 7 PM. Sharp." He breaks his words and looks at me pointedly.

"Yesterday, you had asked me to come and then cancelled. Are you going to cancel it today, as well?"

"Be on time." His rude voice commands and he leaves the place.

Useless soul.

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I knock at the door waiting for him to open it soon before I get noticed by any other student. In five seconds the door opens and I am pulled inside.

I look at Ishaan, who has a weird look on his face. He is staring at the wall, his eyes shutting and opening on their record. I wait for a moment before I start firing my questions, "Why did you call me here, though?"

Instead of answering my questions, he looks at me, "You didn't check your messages?" His voice deep and laced with anger. But then, when was he not in an angry mood around me.

I click my phone open and find the notifications of his message which I had received just a minute ago.

"What the hell? You asked me to come yesterday at 7 pm and then you messaged me to not come. And then today, again, you warn me to be on time and then send me this, at 7:01 when I might have already entered the hostel building. What do you think of yourself, huh? I didn't ask you for your help, it is you who wanted to volunteer. I ain't your servant remember that this is my case-"

"Shut the fuck up." His voice is louder than ever. I look at him with bubbling anger of my own. I ain't his servant or someone dying for his training and help.

"Why should I? I have other work to do as well. I
ain't-"

I am pushed to the wall roughly while Ishaan towers over me. His face intimidating and he appears to be extremely raged.

"Don't you ever dare to use that tone with me! I fucking don't care who you are, get that? Keep your mouth shut in front of me! Whom do you think you are, huh?"

"I-"

"Let me answer that for you. A fucking spoilt rich brat who thinks they can easily get whatever they want using their father's name or status. Have you seen yourself while you walk? How the fuck do you classify yourself as an agent when you can't even walk straight. So, Inaayat what exactly is it that boosts your ego? Your father's status and power? You entered this field only and only because of who your father is, you get that? You have zero potential to be here, talking to me in this attitude."

I look at him dumb-founded. I gulp, biting my tongue. His voice is so loud that it manages to pierce my ears and scare my heart.

"Should I pop a bubble for you?" He is sarcastic and I want him to stop.

"Inaayat, you are an effing joke for everyone back there in the headquarters. After what you did in your first gun training class with Pankaj, everyone looks down at you. Do you understand what it means? People like you who use their daddy card in entering into fields like this, getting a case that expects you to go undercover and catch a murderer as their first case are called the products of nepotism. Should I spell that for you?"

"Ishaan-" I start. He is exaggerating the matter way too much. He doesn't know the reality. He doesn't know that I am not going to continue the job, instead, I will run back to the one subject that I find solace in.

"Exactly my point. I have warned you a thousand times to not call me with that name but still, you do it. How can a person like you think so highly of themselves? Zero talent, Zero capability, Zero brains and here, you are trying to find a murderer." His voice is so sardonic that I can't help but feel worse. My self-conscience feels degraded.

My insecurities resurface, mocking at me. Laughing at me. He moves a little away and claps his hands loudly- with an essence of dry humour. Deriding me, humiliating me for something I didn't even do.

"Using power to enter a field, and landing yourself a case to show off to the world about how fucking talented you are. Oh, God. " He pauses and again leans in closer.

"From where do you get the courage to look at yourself knowing that you don't deserve to be here. So many people die for this opportunity all their lives, and then people like you- children of powerful people- snatch their opportunities. How did you even think that you are capable of being an officer, or was it your zeal to prove your father wrong, to tell him that you aren't waste when certainly YOU ARE ONE." He shouts.

"You are taking it too far-"

"Exactly. You leave me with no choice. Standing here, asking me questions as if you are someone too great to be left unanswered. You are nothing without your father's name. Do you get that? The only reason I am even tolerating your clumsy, useless self is just that, I respect your father and his work. But you, are nothing to me. I can't even bring myself to talk to you when all I see is a spoilt brat time passing here, just for her selfish reasons."

He puts the last screw on the coffin.

I am clumsy. I can be useless, I am not worthy.

But one thing I ain't is weak. I am not weak. And I'll never be one. I shove him away with force as he stumbles a little.

Looking at me with a mixture of shock and anger, I quickly leave the room. Allowing the tears to flow once I reach the terrace.

I ain't a waste.

or...

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Ooooof!!

So!?

LETS GET STARTED WITH SOME DRAMA, SHALL WE?

Star button is right there on your screens left hand corner.

Till the next,
keep dodging the bullets.
ऊ.